


The Maskmaker's Apprentice

by theotheralissa



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5684395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotheralissa/pseuds/theotheralissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the maskmaker can be found in any legend. Songs and tales are written about his craft that transformed the small town near the mountains. This, however, isn’t the story of the maskmaker. This is the little known story of the maskmaker’s apprentice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Maskmaker's Apprentice

**Author's Note:**

> Written with pleasure for [sparkleboom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkleboom/pseuds/sparkleboom) for [aibaexchange](http://aibaexchange.livejournal.com/)! Originally posted [here](http://aibaexchange.livejournal.com/2561.html)!
> 
> Thank you to faiee for all of the encouragement and thank you to [muffinsome](http://archiveofourown.org/users/muffinsome/pseuds/muffinsome) for all of the handholding and support and also for fixing my mistakes and making this presentable XD

The story of the maskmaker can be found in any legend. 

It’s the story of how a simple, quiet craftsman made a mask for one of the children of the town. How she showed it to her brother who also wanted a mask of his own. How then the craftsman made a mask for their mother then father then family then friends until the craftsman found himself making a mask for every single person in the town. From border to border, where the mountains meet in the south, everyone was wearing one of the maskmaker’s masks. 

It was around then that the Masquerade began. 

Once a year, in the time just before fall gives way to winter, the people of the town of Kamen don their masks from the first light of morning until the deep night. In the evening a ball is held, the guests a sea of masked faces with innate beauty and the curious freedom to be someone else within the confines of Masquerade day. 

The news quickly spread to the next town and the one after that like skipping stones on the surface of the water. People began to come from the north, from the west. The ball grew until the ballroom could no longer hold it. Soon the maskmaker had to begin teaching his craft and took on two apprentices who worked tirelessly at his side until everyone who wanted a mask had one in their hands. 

The story of the maskmaker can be found in any legend. Songs and tales are written about his craft that transformed the small town near the mountains. This, however, isn’t the story of the maskmaker. This is the little known story of the maskmaker’s apprentice. 

\---

On the third day of December when the air is crisp with early winter, Jun gets into a carriage with Nino at his side early in the morning. 

“Are the preparations made?” Jun asks. Nino rubs his eyes and nods. Dawn is just starting to break and Jun looks at him fondly. “Sorry we have to leave this early.” 

“It’s okay,” Nino says, yawning, and then he closes his eyes, leaning back against the cushion. 

Jun doesn’t speak to him again until he wakes up on his own. He will when the sun finishes rising and the cool air in the carriage gets warmer with sunlight. 

From here it takes two days to reach the town of Kamen. Jun has never been to the Masquerade. Usually the King in the palace needs him to plan the spring festivals and the ceremony that brings one year to the next. But this year he’s been invited to oversee the Masquerade. 

In the neighboring villages, word has circulated about the extravagant festivals in the palace. In the spring flower festival the colors bloom into rainbows along the riverbed. And in the summer fireworks burst against the night sky in patterns and shapes that tell stories from the old days. With Jun’s abilities it was bound to happen one day that word about him would spread and he wouldn’t be able to stay at the palace. Even so he had assured everyone he’d be back after the Masquerade and they wished him farewells as he and Nino took off that morning down the dirt road.

On the first night of the journey they stay at an inn deep in the valley. Jun starts a fire in the fireplace and sits at the table spreading out his notes in front of him. The Masquerade starts at dawn and lasts until the dawn that follows. From morning until night the people of the town wear their masks. And the legends say in that time they become the mask. A person wearing a mask painted to look like the sky is said to take on a light, airy personality. And another wearing a mask painted in deep shades of green might wander to the woods and bring back leaves and branches to decorate the Masquerade ball. 

It isn’t a usual day in any sense of the word. The people go where the masks take them. 

In one of the pages of his notes Jun has information about the maskmaker himself. Named Ohno Satoshi, he’s small in build, about the same height as Nino, he notes. He’s quiet and keeps to himself and makes masks all throughout the year. Some people buy their masks from him in the early summer and keep them in their box until the Masquerade comes. Some come in the weeks before the Masquerade. Some make requests for what they want on their mask and some leave it up to the maskmaker’s whim. 

The fire burns late into the night and Jun falls asleep there at the table with half a word written on the page and the ink drying in the inkwell. 

\---

“Excuse me!” Aiba shouts as he runs through the town. He weaves himself in and out of the crowd, expertly missing a low hanging potted plant and curving between some children chasing after a dog. In one hand he has some dark purple ink and in the other a fresh set of brushes. Both were requested by the maskmaker along with some silver ribbons that he’ll carry in his pouch. 

He ducks into the craft shop and moves from wall to wall. “Silver, silver...” he mutters to himself until the young girl wearing an apron decorated in not only ribbons but bows and lace says, “This?” 

“Thank you!” he says, pulling out a few coins from his pouch and replacing them with the ribbon. 

“Aiba-san,” she says, shyly. Emi-chan and her family have owned the craft shop since before the time of the Masquerade, but as the ball has grown in attendance so has the craft shop. 

“Yeah?” Aiba says, closing the button on his pouch. 

“Is Ohno-san working on the masks now?” she asks. 

Aiba grins. “I think so,” he says. He shows her the purple ink in his right hand and the brushes in his left. 

Emi asked for a mask that shines like the moon and Aiba happens to know that Ohno has already finished that one. It’s shining brightly in a small box where no one can see, ready to show itself under the lanterns when the guests are all dancing into the night. 

Near the center of the city is a tiny workshop where sometimes people of the town, young and old alike, will try to sneak a look through the not-quite-entirely closed curtains. 

Ohno works at a table in the head of the room where the most light reaches. Surrounded by brushes and sponges and tools. Palettes in rainbow colors and odd bits of glue and string. 

Aiba’s table is to his side and there sit molds where he crafts the masks and a few brushes and bottles of ink when he’s asked to try his hand at some decorating.

Sho sits to Ohno’s left painting the smaller masks. At first, Ohno taking Sho on as one of his apprentices seemed like an act of charity. But Sho’s drawings made the children happy so every year he diligently paints ducks and cows and pandas on the brightly colored little masks. 

“I got it!” Aiba says, breathlessly against Ohno’s worktable. He gives him the ribbon, the brushes and the ink and Ohno nods without a word. Aiba leans against the table for a moment catching his breath and watches how Ohno takes the silver ribbon in his hands and turns it into a bird’s nest just before his eyes. He sets little pearls inside as eggs and paints in deep strokes the texture of the bark on the treebranch. 

“There,” Ohno says, nodding approvingly at the mask as he sets it down to dry. 

Aiba sits down at his bench again and a list has been placed there. Seven blue masks, one gold and three lavender. They’ll work like this until it gets dark and then a little later still. 

The Masquerade begins in two weeks and until that time all three of them will be working by sunlight or candlelight until every last mask is made. 

\---

It begins with a rumor. Then crawls through the town like vines, taking root in the market and the theater where large crowds are gathered then blossoming as it spreads from one house to the next. 

Matsumoto Jun is coming. The one who turned the gardens into snowbanks in the winter festival and who turned the palace ballroom underwater - blue lanterns that floated over coral shining with the reflection of the stars - on the day to honor the sea. 

“Did you hear?” asks the breadmaker who asks the woodworker who asks the cobbler and the doctor and the blacksmith in kind. 

When Jun’s carriage arrives early the next morning a hush falls over the town. He steps out curiously and Nino follows behind him. 

“Quiet,” Nino says, then accidentally kicks a small pebble with his shoe. The noise seems heavy enough to leave an echo behind it. 

Jun looks to the east then to the west. 

“Ah I get it,” Nino says. 

“Mm?” Jun turns to meet his eyes. 

“They heard you were coming.” Nino grins, pulling his bag out from the back of the carriage along with Jun’s as well. He slings both of them over his shoulder and the welcoming party quickly comes to the carriage to greet them. 

\---

Sho overhears it while he’s on his way to work early in the morning. When he enters the workroom he sees Ohno hard at work and Aiba mixing paints together to make just the right colors for the morning batch of masks Ohno will no doubt soon be asking him to prepare. 

“Did you hear that Matsumoto Jun is coming here?” Sho whispers to Aiba. 

“Yeah,” Ohno says, without looking up from his painting. It looks like a particularly complicated one too - the wings of a fairy in lines as thin as a strand of thread. 

Aiba works the rest of the morning with an odd feeling in his chest. Not a bad or a good feeling but one that feels so light it’s heavy, a confused feeling that he can only understand as excitement. Every year he feels a rush around the time when the Masquerade is soon on the horizon. The time when all of the masks begin to gather there in the work room as if they’d fallen down to earth like raindrops. 

If the news was traveling through the town like growing vines before, in the days that follow it starts to feel more like a firecracker. Like a flame whipping through the streets and leaving behind a heady mix of joy and nerves. The townspeople line their houses with flowers and shops decorate their entrances in bright streamers. In the gardens at the center of the town usually ribbons are woven into the leaves of the plants, but this year the decorations are in Matsumoto Jun’s hands. 

Aiba can’t help himself. With all of the whispers circulating in the streets he has to go and find out for himself. Late in the evening when he finishes up at the workshop he tells Sho he has to run an errand and they part ways. He pretends to walk to the market, but takes a sharp turn that leads straight to the gardens. A temporary wall made with planks of wood stands around the square in the center of town. From here, Aiba can’t see clearly and there are some children on their tiptoes trying to get a closer look along with him. It looks almost like a net or a veil draped over the flowers and trees. There is also a kind of machine that Aiba has never seen anything like before and some workers are adjusting knobs and buttons. It doesn’t even look like the gardens Aiba grew up with anymore. Doesn’t even look like a part of this town. 

“Wow,” Aiba whispers, looking through a tiny hole in one of the pieces of wood. 

“Cool isn’t it?” a boy says next to him. He’s small and barely reaches Aiba’s hip standing up, but it’s an advantage for him because there are even bigger holes with a better view towards the base of the wall. 

“Shouldn’t you be going home Yuusuke-kun?” Aiba says with a warm smile. “It’s getting dark!” 

“Shouldn’t you not be spying on Matsumoto-san?” Yuusuke giggles and as soon as Aiba turns around Yuusuke is already running away. Attached to the bag he carries on his back is a small mask that Aiba recognizes as the one Sho made for him the year before. A strange fuzzy creature is drawn on it and even though Sho asked him if he wanted a new one this year Yuusuke insisted on keeping this one. 

Aiba looks to his left and his right. He’s by himself now. The only one here trying to take a look inside. He gets down low where Yuusuke was looking before and it’s much easier to see from here. The machine looks bigger and more complicated from this angle. It’s also the first time he sees someone who doesn’t look like any of the workers or anyone from the town he recognizes at all. A man with a dark jacket and a scarf around his neck that looks more colorful than functional. The man turns so that Aiba can see only his profile and Aiba squints to try to make out his features. 

“Matsumoto-san,” one of the workers calls out.

“Matsumoto-san,” Aiba whispers to no one at all except a breeze that happens to pass by. 

\---

The Masquerade is a new tradition as far as history goes. But even so it’s fast become a legend in the surrounding villages and towns and beyond. There is a rumor that it’s good luck to wear an orange mask but bad luck to wear a pink one. That if you put on your mask before the first light of the sun it loses its power (and this comes from another rumor that the masks themselves have powers). But the most enduring superstitions seems to be the ones about love. 

They are:

_If you fall in love at the Masquerade beware. You don’t know who is behind the mask and you’re forbidden to find out until the morning light._

_On the other hand, if you’ve already fallen in love and have yet to confess find them. Find them while the mask covers their face and you can only know them by the way they move, the way they speak, the honesty of their words. Tell them your confession just before dawn and when you both remove the masks they’re sure to accept._

_However, you must not speak your name or reveal yourself with your words to the one that you love._

This is why when night turns into morning and the festival is coming to an end there are people that gather to wait for the sunrise so that they can take off their masks together. 

\---

Jun finds a couple of things to be true about the town of Kamen. 

It isn’t like working in the palace. When the King throws a party Jun has everything at his disposal. The best chefs creating the most exquisite dishes. Finely crafted decorations made of rare silk. Not only common candles but the latest inventions, lanterns that change colors, oil that burns in sequence creating waves of light from one end of the ballroom to the other. Even fireworks that burst in the sky so brightly they almost turn the night into day. With the King allowing him anything he desires Jun doesn’t have to limit his imagination. If there is something he wants to see he can find a way to see it. 

In the town of Kamen the budget is considerably smaller, the technology considerably less advanced. But there is a quality to Kamen that the King’s palace doesn’t have. 

Because there isn’t a ballroom like the King has, the Masquerade is held outside under the night sky. With no obstructions like the castle spires the stars can be seen from any place, any angle. Jun plans to use the natural light of the moon and the tall mountains that surround the town to his advantage. While the King can provide many things it isn’t the same as what nature can provide. And though Jun has never planned anything like this he feels a rush through his veins, the thick, heady feeling of a challenge. 

He first takes a walk around the town, trying to get an idea for what kind of a place it is and what would make the people here happy. Many people here are workers, crafting steel, weaving fabrics. There are farms just on the outskirts and orchards beyond. 

“Something elaborate,” Jun says. “But... something that seems easy and straightforward when you look at it.” 

Nino nods, writing the notes down on a small notepad he’s taken out of his pocket. 

“Something handsome,” Jun says. 

“Handsome?” Nino laughs. “You mean like me?” 

“Write that down,” Jun says with a grin. 

“Got it,” Nino says. “Something as handsome and charming as me.” 

“Didn’t say charming,” Jun says. 

“But you meant to,” Nino says, dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s before he puts his pen away. 

They walk silently through the streets cutting through the central square and into the alleys behind the shops and restaurants. It doesn’t go unnoticed that townspeople speak in hushed whispers when they pass by. He isn’t recognized like this in the palace. Mainly because he’s been working there so long that everyone knows his name now and doesn’t have the time or opportunity to get starstruck. He also doesn’t consider himself to be a star. Not in the traditional sense anyway, like a singer in an opera or a dancer on the stage. He considers himself someone who impresses his audience with his work while drawing as little attention to himself as possible. 

“What about this arch?” Nino asks when they turn the corner and move towards a pathway that leads out of the center square. Jun didn’t notice it the first time they passed and he smiles. This is why Nino is invaluable to him. 

“We’ll start here,” Jun says, a vision entering his mind. The archway leads to a street that winds down to a fork, one way is the market and the other the gardens. While the gardens are well tended, Jun wants to see them come to life. 

Nino jots down notes quickly while the ideas flood into Jun’s mind. 

At the end of the afternoon they’re told that it’s time to visit the maskmaker. Jun reigns himself in and sees Nino’s pen still flying across the paper. Writing down half thoughts and possibilities. Things that maybe Jun hadn’t said yet but with a gesture of Jun’s hand or a lilt of his voice Nino knew what it was he wanted to say. 

“We’re ready, thank you,” Jun says, graciously, and a representative of the town takes them through the market to a little house at the end. Puffs of smoke rise from the chimney and it’s such a plain house that if Jun hadn’t been told it was the maskmaker’s workshop he would never have noticed it there at all. 

\---

Aiba works from morning to night sleeping at his workbench then waking up again surrounded by fresh masks and paint in every color imaginable. He wakes up every morning to the sound of the birds in the trees just outside of the window and falls asleep to the song of the crickets. 

It gets chilly in the workshop and sometimes Aiba wakes up with a blanket around his shoulders and see Sho tending to the fire. 

“Are you awake Aiba-san?” Sho says to him as he blinks and tries to see the room in focus. 

He makes a sound that he feels will be a “yes” but ends up coming out as a grunt. 

Sho laughs and crosses the room back to his workbench. “You can borrow it,” he says and Aiba realizes he must mean the blanket. Sho smiles warmly. 

Aiba paints blue and red and silver. He makes patterns that swirl and ones in pinstripe lines. He makes skies with fluffy clouds and rivers that rush in the valley between mountains. All three of them work silently. So silently that when there is a knock on the door it makes Aiba jump in his seat.

“Ah,” Ohno says. “I forgot to tell you.” 

Sho sets down the mask he’s working on and gets up to answer the door. 

Beyond two escorts who have been helping them since they arrived, the two men who arrived on the carriage the day before stand just obscured enough from where Aiba sits. 

“Oh, please come in,” Sho says, bowing deeply and gesturing for them to come in the room. 

“It’s alright,” the smaller of the two says. “Formalities aren’t necessary.” 

After he steps inside, Matsumoto follows. He hasn’t introduced himself yet, but Aiba knows there isn’t anyone else he could be. 

His footsteps are quiet and light but he somehow commands the attention of the room. This was the one Aiba saw the night before in profile. Even from the back Aiba was captivated. But now, in this room with nothing to obstruct his view, Aiba is very nearly breathless. 

“Pleased to meet you,” Matsumoto says with a bow. His assistant bows next to him and they both stand up straight again in tandem. 

“This is Ohno-san,” the escort, Takeda-san from the town council, introduces Ohno by gesturing to him and bowing his head. 

“Hello,” Ohno says. 

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Matsumoto says. 

Aiba sees a tug at the corner of Ohno’s lips but he doesn’t fully smile. Ohno takes pride in his work but Aiba knows he doesn’t put himself on a pedestal. 

“Really what you’ve done here,” Matsumoto continues. “The way you’ve transformed this festival. It’s amazing. I’ve been wanting to work with you for some time.” 

Ohno bows. “Th-thank you,” he says. Aiba’s never seen him quite so timid and he can see Sho behind the two of them giggling into his hand. 

“This is Sakurai Sho,” Takeda says. Sho quickly collects himself and puts his hands behind his back as if he can conceal his laughter there. 

“It’s a pleasure,” Sho says, bowing down deep. 

“And--” 

“Aiba!” Aiba says before he can stop himself. Somehow he wants to be the one to tell Matsumoto his name. “Aiba Masaki.” 

“An honor to meet you as well,” Matsumoto says. They meet eyes and Matsumoto holds his gaze for so long that Aiba forgets what to say next, what to do next, the day, the month, the minute. 

“Ahh,” Aiba stumbles over words that don’t form in his mouth the way they’re supposed to. Then Matsumoto smiles kindly and Aiba forgets every other word in the language. 

“He isn’t usually shy,” Sho says, the laugh still kept firmly behind his back but Aiba can feel it in the way he speaks. 

“Even if he was,” Matsumoto says. “It’s an honor all the same.” 

The feeling is strange and tight. Somewhere in his chest or back or shoulders. A pulling sensation that doesn’t leave until Matsumoto turns his attention elsewhere. And even then it lingers as a dull feeling inside of him. It aches when he breathes and pulls at his fingers and hands as he paints. 

Matsumoto and Ninomiya stay in the workshop for some time, discussing the masks with Ohno. The types and styles. It seems Matsumoto wants to decorate so as to put the masks in the forefront. His decoration will be the backdrop that brings out the beauty of the masks and enhances them. 

Then just before they leave, Ohno offers to make each of them a mask for the occasion. 

At first Matsumoto says no. He isn’t a guest and he shouldn’t lose himself in the party. But Ohno assures him nothing will stand out more than someone’s unmasked face and Matsumoto concedes. 

Ninomiya isn’t intent on any color in particular, but Ohno chooses a mustard shade that seems to suit him and Ninomiya agrees. 

Matsumoto chooses a dark color. Not quite black but somewhere in between the jetblack ink and the soft color of the night sky. 

“Stars then?” Ohno says. 

“Sure,” Matsumoto says. 

“Got it,” Ohno nods. 

They leave then after saying their goodbyes and Aiba lets out a breath, leaning back in his seat. Then he reaches for the paint in front of him and a fresh mask just out of its mold. He lifts it up and takes the brush and begins painting it the color of a galaxy. 

\---

It takes some time before the decorations are ready. The Masquerade is to be held two weeks after Jun and Nino arrive. While some might consider it a tight schedule, for Jun it’s almost standard. The King makes decisions on a whim and Jun has managed to pull together bigger events in a shorter time than this. 

However, this time he wants to try something entirely new. It’s a trademark of his to introduce new elements. He sometimes borrows from events in neighboring towns that have an impact on him. He adds his own twist sometimes and other times it’s a collaborative work between him and the original creator. This time though he has an idea for something that he’s never seen before. 

Next to the field where the dance floor will be is a big lake. In the summers the people of Kamen sometimes swim there to cool off and in the cold of winter it becomes sleek with ice. Now in the autumn the air is too chilly to dip in the lake. No one goes near it except to take a walk around its circumference. 

“Fireworks?” Nino asks. 

“Not just,” Jun says. 

In the sky he wants fireworks. Nothing too complicated, just a simple burst of light in the air. And he wants it at an angle so that there will be a reflection in the water. If the timing is right the fireworks and the night sky and the movement of the water will work in harmony. 

“I want there to be music,” he says. 

“The quartet?” Nino asks. He’s already pulling his pen out of his pocket to take notes. 

“The whole orchestra,” Jun says with a smile that makes Nino smile as well. 

The orchestra members are brought in to Kamen on horseback and in carriages. The inns fill to capacity quickly but because of the special occasion the people of Kamen open their doors and every shop, every room of every house, becomes a temporary home for the musicians. Drums and cellos and trumpets move through the streets. An occasional strum of the harp or whistle of a flute adds flavor to daily life in Kamen. It isn’t an ordinary time of year, not with the Masquerade approaching, but this year it’s even more out of the ordinary than usual. 

The day of the Masquerade grows closer and Kamen starts to look like a festival. Ribbons and bells are placed around the town and at nights the streets light up with lanterns. By now everyone recognizes Jun and there isn’t anywhere he can go without being noticed. So he takes to walking around the streets at night in the places where the lanterns light doesn’t reach. He lets the mood and atmosphere of the town wash over him and sometimes he makes a note to change something here or a detail there. 

It’s one night when the streets are particularly empty that he sees a young boy running through the gardens. He’s carrying a pouch in his hand and a box that surely has a mask inside under his arm. He’s running quickly and urgently as if he’s late and going to be scolded. And he isn’t looking carefully in front of him so when he takes a sharp turn on the path that weaves between the trees he runs right into a man about twice his height. 

The pouch leaves his hand and several coins fall to the ground like a hundred little chimes and the box with the mask inside goes tumbling into a fountain. 

“Aiba Masaki,” Jun whispers to himself. This is the one who sits at the right hand of the maskmaker. The apprentice who introduced himself so brightly that Jun can still remember the hint of sunlight in his voice when he spoke. 

“Don’t cry, Kouta-kun!” Aiba says, dusting the boy off a little before he props him up on his feet. The boy bites his lip and Aiba takes his hand. “Can you find all of the coins?” he asks. 

Kouta nods, rubbing at his eyes. 

“I’ll go to the fountain,” Aiba says. “Let’s see how many coins you can find before I get back okay?” 

Kouta nods, a little more sure of himself and while he’s down on the ground gathering coins and dropping them into the pouch, Aiba rolls up his pant legs and takes off his shoes and socks and goes to wade in the water. The mask is floating there towards the center and when Aiba picks it up he frowns, but his back is to Kouta and when he turns around he’s softened his expression to a smile. 

“Kouta-kun,” Aiba says, stepping back onto the dry ground. Kouta has gathered almost all of the coins and holds his pouch up proudly. 

“I did it!” he says, then the glimmer of a coin catches his eye and he darts off to add that one to the pouch, dropping it inside with a tiny clink. 

“Good,” Aiba says, ruffling his hair. “I’m going to take this mask with me. I’ll bring it back for you tomorrow but I made a mistake and painted it the wrong color! Your mother asked for green didn’t she?” 

Kouta nods.

“I painted it red!” Aiba says, embarrassed, but from where Jun can see the mask he’s holding behind his back it’s a bright green that catches in the lanterns light. 

“I’ll watch where I’m going,” Kouta says, shyly and Aiba smiles. 

“It’s getting late so get home!” Aiba says. “Tell your mother I’ll be by tomorrow.” 

Kouta nods in promise before running away. When he does, Aiba sits down on the edge of the fountain, rolling his pant legs back down and putting his shoes on again. Jun turns away, feeling suddenly aware of himself, watching Aiba Masaki from this distance where Aiba can’t see him at all. 

His chest swells in a funny way and though he turns away he listens for Aiba’s footsteps to become light and gentle just before they completely disappear. 

In a box on a shelf in his hotel room is the box that the maskmaker gave to him. And though he can’t see it right now he remembers exactly what it looks like. The soft blue of the night sky that Aiba painted. When he closes his eyes he can almost see it.

\---

When the Masquerade begins it isn’t with a ceremony or a grand announcement. In the early hours of the morning the people of Kamen and the guests who have come to stay go about their normal morning business in the usual way. But as they’re doing so they put on their masks so that from the first time they meet eyes with anyone it’s from behind the mask. 

Some people end up telling secrets that they never would if they were truly face to face. Others guard their secrets more carefully than before. Though there are rumors, the masks can’t actually change the heart of the one wearing it. Aiba has never believed that anyway. Hearts don’t change that easily, Aiba has always said. The mask can’t cover or reveal anything, but your heart can reveal things you didn’t know about yourself even if you thought you did. 

When he puts on the mask he doesn’t feel any less in love with Matsumoto as he has since the day he walked into the workshop. No more, no less. Just a constant feeling that tugs and pulls at him and makes him ache then makes him feel warm and soothed. Nothing different, he thinks, even with his face covered by the mask. 

Ohno painted one for him this year with long blades of green grass. Beyond is the scene of a field, wide against an open sky. When he first steps out and into the town he looks carefully at the masks all around him. All of them have been painted and molded by him. There are small ones that fit children and larger ones for adults. When he sees a mask in deep red he remembers mixing the paints together to make that color appear. 

A woman in a purple mask and a man in a grey one pass by him. Aiba thinks it might be the couple who own the inn where the musicians are staying, but he can’t be completely certain. He nods to them in greeting. She has a treble clef painted on one cheek and his mask is a fish jumping out of water. 

Even though it happens every year, Aiba can’t help but feel a ripple of excitement when he walks through the streets. Passing by people who could be strangers just as easily as they could be a childhood friend he’s known since he took his first steps. He looks from mask to mask admiring Ohno’s work, the details of his lines and the way he makes the images leap and come to life. When he’s able to catch a glance as some children run by he recognizes Sho’s duck and panda. Then a child who is distinctly Kouta passes by with the mask Aiba had repaired. 

For some, recognizing takes away the mystery of the Masquerade. But for Aiba, it makes the Masquerade truly come to life. A little familiarity mixed in with the unknown. He waves to Kouta despite himself and Kouta’s laughter comes in response as he runs past Aiba to catch up with his friends. 

What Aiba is really looking for, as he passes by each mask, are the stars and moons that Ohno had painted for Matsumoto. He may be able to recognize him by his height, his haircut, the way he walks. But Aiba can’t find him in the morning nor in the early afternoon. 

When the sun is high in the sky at noon a man in an orange mask with an image of mixed fruits sets out a loaf of bread almost as long as the fountain in the square. He must be the baker. And the woman in an olive colored mask covered in an image of vines must be the butcher as she sets out an assortment of meats. The older man in a bright sunny yellow mask brings cheese and fresh milk from what must be the farm. And another older woman comes from the direction of the orchard with barrels of apples wearing a mask with a painting of apples in reds and greens. 

In the town square everyone dines together, lifting their masks to take a bite while some people try to peek at each other. Aiba doesn’t try to look although his curiosity pulls at him a little. Of all of the people gathered there around the square he doesn’t see one with a mask of the night sky. Maybe the night sky can’t come out in the day, he thinks to himself. 

Early in the afternoon he ventures out to the field. The dance floor is set up there and a few people are coming in and out of the area, but the time when it will really come to life is when the sun starts to go down. Now it’s still early, but he can see some workers near the lake setting up long pieces of wood and a few objects that look like spheres. It feels almost as if he’s looking at a secret so he turns around quickly not letting the image completely sink in. 

“Hello,” a girl says to him when he turns around and he says hello back. 

Then he passes by her and sees a man with a mustard colored mask that he instantly recognizes as Matsumoto’s assistant Ninomiya. No one else is wearing a mask in quite that color and Aiba knows well. 

“Ah um... hello,” Aiba says, a little hesitantly. He isn’t sure how Ninomiya feels behind the mask. Does he enjoy the feeling of hiding his face or would he rather Aiba speak to him freely as if he isn’t hidden at all. 

“Aiba-san,” Ninomiya bows slightly. 

He’s sitting on a fallen tree that hasn’t been collected by the carpenter yet. Aiba sits down beside him feeling like maybe Ninomiya won’t mind if he does something like that. 

“You’ve been hard at work haven’t you?” Aiba says. He looks beyond the lake and even around the perimeter of the field are decorations on the signposts. Today in Kamen everything looks a little different than how it usually looks. 

“Guess so,” Ninomiya chuckles. “My job isn’t really to decide on this stuff.” 

“What is your job then?” Aiba asks, curiously. 

“To keep that guy from going crazy,” Ninomiya says with a smile on his lips that Aiba can imagine without needing to see it. 

“You’ve been working together a long time?” Aiba asks. 

“Long enough,” Ninomiya says. Aiba has met them only briefly, but he’s seen them work together seamlessly. It’s like the way he and Ohno and Sho work quietly together in the shop. Through years of practice sometimes he thinks he can anticipate what Ohno wants before he asks for it. Even if there are times when he’s unpredictable and asks for something they really didn’t expect. 

“Everyone is really happy you know,” Aiba says. “You can’t see them all smiling but they are.” 

Ninomiya nods. “I’ll tell him you said that,” he says. “Or you can tell him yourself if you see him first.” 

“I will,” Aiba says, feeling that familiar tug in his chest. He’s here. If Ninomiya said so then he must be here. 

Aiba stands up from where he was sitting and bows. Ninomiya puts his hand up as if to remind him that he doesn’t need those formalities, but Aiba bows deeply anyway. 

“See you again I’m sure,” Ninomiya says. 

Aiba is about to say goodbye to him as well when he hears a woman shout. He turns around to see that a dog has run in front of her making her stumble and her mask has fallen off only to be stepped on by the dog’s paws as he runs in confusion. She picks up the mask and covers her face again but it’s become dirty and misshapen. Aiba keeps a few spares ready just for this kind of occasion and he reaches into his bag to pull one out. The woman’s mask is silver and he finds he has one that’s white with hints of silver moving around it like threads. 

He recognizes her as Haruko-san, but he doesn’t call her by name since he can see the way she’s trying to hide her face. 

“Here,” he says to her, handing over the new mask and turning away so she can put it on without him seeing her. 

The dog runs back to where they’re standing and she secures the mask with its string before reaching down to give him a pet. He’s the seamstresses dog and usually friendly with Haruko. 

“He probably just got a little excited...” she says, indicating to where the workers are setting up some steel beams near the lake. 

“Here!” Aiba calls out, leaning forward and patting his knees. The dog comes running and sits down in front of Aiba obediently. He doesn’t always do that so Aiba feels satisfied. He takes a small mask out of his bag. Big enough for a very small child. It has an image of a rhinoceros and Aiba ties it around the dog’s neck with a thin string then sends him running on his way. 

“Thank you,” Haruko says, bowing in front of him but he just waves his hands in front of him. 

“No no,” he says. “Don’t worry.” 

She probably smiles. It seems like she does anyway. 

“Don’t worry at all,” Aiba says, then bows before going on his way. 

Ninomiya isn’t sitting on the fallen tree anymore and Aiba is sure most of the people are still near the square. Aiba walks through the streets and they feel empty and quiet. The people who usually run the shops aren’t there to run them but most of the doors are open. And while it would be easy like this for someone to go in and take what they like there aren’t any people in Kamen who would do that sort of thing. On the day after the Masquerade, shop owners can find silver coins resting there on a tabletop sometimes with a note stating what was taken. 

Aiba walks into one of the shops and takes a bottle of juice, leaving two coins behind. When he goes back out the door he very nearly runs into Sho. 

“Hide me!” Sho says a little desperately. 

“Eh?” Aiba asks, then when he hears a sound and looks to the right he sees a group of kids approaching. Sho gets in the shop behind him and Aiba closes the door. There is a rumbling as the kids pass by. 

“Why don’t you just play with them!” Aiba laughs. 

“I did!” Sho says. “I played with them all morning. I just need a break!”

Aiba smiles and pats his back. 

Sho is wearing a mask in an argyle pattern. He always lets Ohno choose his design every year. This time he painted the pattern on a mask in a dark maroon. When Sho had asked him why he’d just said simply because it looked like it would keep him warm. Aiba feels like he understands what Ohno meant by it. The Masquerade happens when the air is cool, after all, and he wonders if it’s keeping Sho warm today. It certainly feels like he’s warmed up now with his back against the wall and catching his breath. 

“Have you seen Matsumoto anywhere?” Aiba asks. He wanted to ask Ninomiya but there wasn’t a chance. 

“Matsumoto?” Sho says. 

But before Aiba can get an answer one of the kids spots Sho through the window and they all rush into the shop pulling Sho out the door by his arms. He looks at Aiba pleadingly but Aiba giggles. 

“Bye Sho-chan!” he calls out after him, waving. He knows the kids will find him no matter where he goes. They’ll ask him to sketch pictures for them and then they’ll tell stories about the drawings as if they’ve come to life. Aiba knows too that he’ll find Sho later that evening surrounded by the kids at the edge of the dance floor. And while he might act like he’s trying unsuccessfully to get away, Aiba will see a smile always at the corner of his lips that will sometimes burst into laughter. 

The kids and Sho disappear down the street and Aiba spends the rest of the afternoon walking through the market. Down the hill that leads to the farmland. Even the houses down this way have been decorated. Ribbons and bells have been placed at the fenceposts surrounding the cows and chickens. The barn has a big, silver bow above the door. Matsumoto went this far, Aiba thinks, and his chest swells again. 

When day turns to evening is the time when the Masquerade takes on a new life. It’s always striking when the sun starts to go down and the masks take on a glow that reflects the fading light. Dark blue masks become almost invisible, bright yellow ones look like warm sunsets and gold masks shine like stars. 

But this year, Matsumoto has arranged for tiny specks of light to fall from the sky like fireflies. They’re light and move easily in the breeze, lilting this way and that among the pleased townspeople. 

When Aiba approaches the lake again many people are gathering near the dance floor. He walks through the tunnel that leads from the garden, this too with ribbons braided through the vines. Over by the fallen tree where Ninomiya sat before is another person. Small like Ninomiya but with a slouching posture so it can only be one person. 

“Ohno-san,” Aiba says, quickening his step as he approaches. 

It’s unmistakably his mask. Unlike the others, he wears the same mask every year. It started as a white canvas, but every year he adds something new. A drawing or a shape or a pattern. The canvas isn’t quite full yet and Aiba has often wondered what Ohno will do when the whole mask is transformed into a mural of his artwork. 

“Have you seen Matsumoto?” Aiba asks, sitting down next to Ohno. Even as he asks he’s searching the crowd for Matsumoto’s mask. It might disappear against the night sky but Aiba will recognize it. Maybe because he’s painted every mask here by hand but even without the daylight he can recognize each one. 

Before Ohno can answer there is a burst in the sky. Usually the fireworks display happens later in the evening with some fanfare beforehand. But the surprise stirs up all of the guests and many of them crowd to the dance floor where there is the best view. Aiba separates from Ohno without a word. He won’t mind, Aiba thinks, and has done it to him a few times as well. But right now he wants to see what Matsumoto has to show them and maybe even Matsumoto himself there among the crowd. 

Another burst happens then a few in quick succession. And when the lights have disappeared and the sky becomes dark again, a ring of light appears above the floor and the orchestra is illuminated near the lake. They begin to play. And everyone begins to dance. 

The people take partners. No one knows for certain who they’re dancing with but often couples gravitate towards each other. Aiba wonders if he’ll gravitate towards Matsumoto or Matsumoto to him. The sky grows darker as the orchestra plays and Aiba hasn’t seen even a hint of the dark mask. 

Finally after he’s woven through the couples (and the children dancing in circles around Sho) more than once then more than twice he leaves to go back to the lake and the woods behind it. 

He sees Ninomiya sit down on the fallen tree next to Ohno. And the last few people who have been just outside of the dance floor finally reach out to each other until everyone is dancing there except the two watching from where they’re sitting on the tree and Aiba himself. 

“And Matsumoto Jun,” Aiba says to himself in a whisper just as another surprise appears. Around the dance floor lights begin to swirl like pinwheels. Like the way the dancers turn on the floor and the way the music spirals into his ear. 

\---

On the day before the Masquerade Jun begins to notice something. At first he doesn’t think much of it but as the day goes on he realizes that almost everyone in the town of Kamen knows which mask he’s going to wear. 

Wherever he goes he hears whispers behind him. He listens to hear if they’re talking about the music or the decorations. Maybe there is something he can improve on if he happens to hear. But instead of that he hears people saying _stars_ and _night_ and then someone points to the box he carries under his arm when his mask is finally finished. So the evening before the Masquerade he goes with Nino to see the maskmaker again. 

His new mask is pure gold and Nino suggests that the maskmaker paint an embellished _J_ instead of leaving it plain. 

“Got it,” the maskmaker had said, easily, and looked at the bottles of paint in front of him. 

“Wait,” Jun says. “Won’t that give me away?” 

“Does anyone call you J other than me?” Nino had asked and Jun supposed not. But the maskmaker had chosen to paint the letter in white so it didn’t stand out too much on the golden background. 

Nino seemed satisfied with it, grinning when the maskmaker finished his work and Nino held the mask in his hands. 

The day of the Masquerade, Jun slips the mask full of stars into a desk drawer in his room at the inn. He’ll keep this mask for himself, but the one he wears is the golden one made freshly the day before. Nino meets him at the entrance, already in his mustard colored mask, and nods in greeting. Then they part ways for the day. Jun will be busy checking to make sure that everything is going smoothly and Nino will enjoy himself however he pleases. Today is his day off.

From morning to mid afternoon Jun mixes himself into the crowd. No one notices him at all and it feels funny and also somehow makes him feel calm. He can take control without anyone noticing him or making an announcement of his presence. He moves a couple of decorations here and there and he makes sure that he doesn’t see anyone looking lonely or unsatisfied. Luckily he doesn’t see anyone like that, but there is a reason. 

Aiba Masaki picks up a scarf that a woman drops and gives it back to her. Some children run into him from behind but he doesn’t get angry. He smiles at them, so brightly that Jun can see it from behind the mask, and points them the direction they want to go. They come back with the other apprentice, Sakurai, in tow laughing and waving to Aiba as they pass. 

He gets glasses of fresh apple cider for a group of people sitting in the sunlight. And he ties a small mask around a dog’s neck so he can be part of the celebration too. 

Then he says Jun’s name. Once or twice asking if anyone has seen him and it makes Jun want to call out and say that he’s right here, but he doesn’t so as not to draw attention to himself. 

Jun has heard the stories about the Masquerade. He’s heard that it’s bad luck to wear a pink mask and he notices that no one is wearing one in any shade of pink. He’s heard that speaking one’s own name is not advised. He’s heard that it’s unwise to fall in love at the Masquerade. But the one he can’t help but remember is the rule that if you confess to your love with the masks still on they are sure to accept. 

If he confessed to Aiba Masaki, would he accept? 

He almost has to laugh at how quickly the idea dared to spring forth in his mind. Of course he can’t do that. Not here and now. There must be someone else who wants to confess to him. There must be many, he thinks, who love him. 

As evening grows near, Jun feels himself disappear in the crowd even more than the rest of the day. It’s dark and though this mask doesn’t blend into the night air he’s more hidden this way. The small floating lights are released above the dance floor and on cue the orchestra begins to play. There are fireworks high in the sky on cue and just as he hoped everyone is gathered there dancing. How many of them, he wonders, know who it is they’re dancing with. 

When he looks beyond the dance floor he sees only a few people who have kept their distance. On a fallen tree, two are sitting together. And near the woods by the lake, one stands there behind a large treebranch. 

For days, the workers sent to accompany Jun have been building a structure near the lake. It’s completed now and he can see the way the steel rods catch the moonlight. Tiny lights still weave through the guests but it’s something much bigger that will take their breath away. Jun feels a tingle of excitement under his skin just knowing what the townspeople are about to experience.

He makes his way towards the lake and that’s when he sees it. The mask of green grass in front of a field that he knows is being worn by Aiba Masaki. He feels the tingle again and he looks from Aiba to the structure near the lake and back again. Aiba turns his head when Jun approaches but doesn’t say anything and Jun doesn’t either. Speaking will reveal himself as much as saying his name will. And here among the Masquerade he can’t help but feel the weight of the legends. 

“Hello,” Aiba says in greeting and Jun nods without making a sound. 

He points to the lake because he wants Aiba to see it. His finest trick crafted for the town of Kamen that has kept him so comfortably. He might love this town and everyone in it and even if he can’t see their faces, he want to see all of them smile. 

Aiba looks to the lake and several fireworks explode in the sky. They’re white and gold and blue. Then the structure on the lake begins to move. It starts as a point of light then it grows, first blooming into a flower and then spreading the wings of a butterfly. The orchestra begins to play, softly at first. And Jun hears Aiba gasp, stopping himself just short of reaching for Aiba’s hand. 

The image starts to grow. They’d assured him at the palace that it was the latest technology and even Jun himself wasn’t prepared for just how beautiful it would be. The four seasons are shown in succession. The winter snow and the colors of spring. Then the hot, summer sun and the cool chill of crispy leaves in fall. Aiba moves towards the lake, just a step forward or two and Jun delights in seeing him wrapped up in the images. The orchestra plays in time. Long, thin sounds when the images are light and wispy, then the pounding of the drum when the bold colors display the entire spectrum before turning into a blue lake. 

An image of this lake floats there, the blue of the lights making everyone’s masks tint that color. The images are to retreat from the lake, back and up and the lake is to come alive with a miniature town of Kamen in lights that dance on the water. But something happens. There is a sharp sound and the lights dance too quickly. They shoot this way and that. Blue and green and red. 

“No!” Aiba gasps and Jun does reach for his hand this time. Holding tight to it. He doesn’t want to say his name but he wonders if Aiba can know it’s him just by the way his hand feels. He can’t possibly, Jun thinks, then the lights spark and go out all at the same time. The display above the lake and the lanterns around the dance floor. Even the little firefly lights go out and they’re left there in the dark. The orchestra stops. A few people gasp in surprise but most don’t make a sound. 

Jun can’t hear anything except for the sound of breathing, his own behind the mask, and without saying his name he leans close. 

“The lights went out,” he says. 

“Matsumoto?” Aiba says. 

“Let me...” Jun starts. It feels like he has to say it before the lights come back up. His vision didn’t come to life. His work and his passion since the moment he was invited to the Masquerade. It failed and disappeared into the dark. 

But Kamen is no ordinary town. The people stand silently, looking to the lake with wonder and the musicians start to play again. The firefly lights blink on once more and Jun takes in a thick breath. 

His work may have failed but anything can be beautiful if you’re looking at it with the right person beside you.

“Let me confess to you,” Jun says, then all at once Aiba pulls him close and Jun pushes his mask back, face still hidden by the dark of the night. And Aiba does the same then they’re kissing. While the orchestra plays and the townspeople quietly start to dance again. While the wind rustles the trees and the water of the lake moves with impatience. It wants to come to life again, to finish what it was meant to do - reflect the display of light, still and unwavering. 

The lights come back with a flash and Jun pulls his mask back on quickly, catching only the smallest glimpse of Aiba’s lips before he covers his face again. 

Beams shoot from the lake and the orchestra lines up the sound with the visual. Jun watches with Aiba, fingers laced together until the final moment when a grand finale worth of fireworks rise together in the sky. 

\---

The legends of the Masquerade endure time. 

The Masquerade itself changes when the man from the palace moves to settle in Kamen. While the maskmaker is hard at work on the masks the whole year round, the man from the palace makes a colorful flower festival in spring and a chilly ice festival in winter. 

The superstitions remain the same. Beware if you fall in love at the Masquerade. You don’t know who might be behind the mask. If you’ve already fallen in love before the Masquerade you must confess before the morning light. 

However, around the time when the man from the palace comes to Kamen a new legend appears. No one knows exactly the reason the lights go out. But every time the Masquerade is held and the evening comes the lights go out for exactly one minute during the dance. Some people believe that it’s a chance to reveal your true self. Hidden by a mask and without the exposure of daylight, there is a safety in the cover of night. 

One can tell a friend they’re sorry for something that they’ve done. Or one can offer forgiveness. One can say to a mother that she is loved or to a child that they bring great pride. One can confess honestly and even break the most important rule of the Masquerade and remove the mask to steal a kiss before the lights come back again. 

Songs and tales are written about the maskmaker and his masks that bring people from all corners of the land. The man from the palace prefers to go unnoticed but there are tales of his works. He becomes a mysterious figure in legends, the atmosphere he creates becoming more famous than the man himself. 

The tale of the maskmaker’s apprentice is woven into every story told of the Masquerade. His story can be found in the story of Kamen and the kindness of the townspeople. His story can be found in the colors of the masks and that one minute of dark night where it’s rumored that he may have been the one responsible for its continued tradition. 

Although no one can completely be sure. 

\---

With the lights on again, Aiba sees Matsumoto’s golden mask in front of him. 

“You changed it,” he says, reaching out to trace the _J_ there with his fingertips. Then Matsumoto takes his hand and they wait for the sun to rise. 

The dance lasts all night until the orchestra stops playing and the only sound left is that of the birds in the trees singing to the morning. When the sun peeks over the mountains the masks start to come off one by one. There is laughter and relief. There are new beginnings as the Masquerade once again comes to a peaceful end. 

Aiba takes off his mask by untying the string carefully. Matsumoto does the same and as soon as both masks are off they join hands again. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Aiba says with a smile that rivals the sun. 

“Me too,” Matsumoto says as a breeze from the east rolls off the mountain and welcomes the new day.


End file.
